


rolling over

by metencephalon



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (as of now...), Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bottom!Hannibal, Bottom!Will, Chastity Device, Cock Piercing, Collars, Hybrids, Knotting, Leashes, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Muzzles, Nipple Chains, Nipple Piercings, Podfic Welcome, Reader-Insert, They Flip, Top!Will, brief medical procedures, but the reader is only the narrator, mentions of mpreg, non-sexual owner/pet dynamic, only the pets are banging, phantom pregnancy, puppy!Will, puppy!hannibal, talk of breeding, the story is not about the reader, top!Hannibal, will and hannibal are dogs but not animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28755498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metencephalon/pseuds/metencephalon
Summary: “Come here, Will! Don’t be shy.” Her hands beckon and the dog --Will-- starts to crawl over; dutifully on all fours.He is beautiful. Radiant. Breathtakingly so.A big, expensive-looking harness made from broad, black, well-oiled leather straps covers his whole body, neck down to the tops of his knees. An attempt at modesty and -- judging from the leathery confinement of his sizable genitals, clearly visible when he sits down at her feet -- a definite familyinvestment.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 90





	1. rolling over

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is based on a dream i had after seeing [nephi’s](https://twitter.com/callmenephila/status/1205342624665739266/photo/1) incredible artwork and the tiny world my brain built around it. 
> 
> thank you, [jess](https://twitter.com/willygrayham), for your support in getting this fic on the way. thank you, my super-amazing beta [maxx](https://twitter.com/maxxeoff), and thank you my wonderful fannibals for cheering me on. you keep inspiring me to create again & i’m truly grateful ❤️
> 
> here you can find the [fic spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/429RHOFpLycWQQScZ8jALR?si=vFGJQqN5SlmiTEFhcp5IBg)  
>   
> important: this fic is not a classic reader-insert. it’s about will & hannibal. the reader 'person' is more like a narrator. i wrote it like that, because i wanted to keep it all completely open and so everyone can make whatever they like out of it. :)
> 
> hannibal’s past is inspired by this amazing fic (WIP): [an approach to academic temerity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983321/chapters/24459285) by [whreflections](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections)  
>   
> also i'm a huge fan of podfics, so if anyone might feel inspired to... 🥺👉🏼👈🏼  
> 

  
[SOURCE](https://twitter.com/callmenephila/status/1205342624665739266/photo/1)

_I'm helpless and hopeful to remain so  
_ _You're reckless and ready to have a go_

A light breeze blows through the bushes. The heat today is so sultry, sweat starts to bead on any available surface of skin. In this remote neighbourhood, there is not much to be heard but birdsong and the occasional animal or dog sound. Each house is kilometers apart, like little private islands in an ocean of dark pinewood green. With swift steps it’s at least half an hour on foot from your door to where you currently are.

It’s nice in this garden, the colorful flora a change to the plain greenery of your own large courtyard. The owner of this property, your neighbor Patti (who, granted, you’ve only met three times in your 8 years of living in the outskirts of Wolf Trap), had called you about walking her pet. 

On the phone her voice had sounded like she was figuratively leaping over a pretty big hurdle by asking you for help, but she had ‘a bad back after a little ladder accident’ and her husband -- some kind of doctor -- had been ‘called away on a personal emergency’. 

Your fingers skim through a long, furry coat. The healthy golden color gleams in the sun like the reflection in the sunnies atop your neighbour’s nose. The animal huffs, nuzzling your hand, his fluffy tail wagging happily. 

Ready to take off, you take hold of the leash, but turn at the sound of a throat clearing.

“Actually.. I was thinking, could you maybe take _him_ , too?” the neighbour asks; half smiling, half something else. An uncertain purse to her mouth.

Your eyes wander over her shoulder, to where she’s pointing and then they widen for a second, your breath stuttering at the sight.

“You hired me to walk your _animal_ , Patti.” It comes out more irritated than intended, but the surprise is just overwhelming.

With a tightly drawn breath, your grip on the leash tightens, the Golden Retriever at your legs still panting excitedly. Patient and blissfully oblivious to the tension in the air.

“Oh, he’s tame! And- isn’t it pretty much the same?” she half-laughs, turns around and calls out to the curly haired being -- _dog -_ \- that sits at the entrance of the garden shed, big blue eyes watching the scene curiously. 

“Come here, Will! Don’t be shy.” Her hands beckon and the dog _\-- Will --_ starts to crawl over; dutifully on all fours.

He is _beautiful._ Radiant. Breathtakingly so. 

A big, expensive-looking harness made from broad, black, well-oiled leather straps covers his whole body, neck down to the tops of his knees. An attempt at modesty and -- judging from the leathery confinement of his sizable genitals, clearly visible when he sits down at your neighbour’s feet -- a definite family _investment_. 

Patti clinically pets atop Will’s curls when he presses himself to her legs, but then she quickly nudges him away with her knee so he sits with a straight back, not-so-subtly presenting his neck. Bright, curious eyes flit between the leash in your hand, the Golden Retriever and then upwards to your face. Just for a second, lightning fast. Not fond of eye contact. 

“He used to be my son’s pup, only a bit over 5 years old,” Patti says, “Tobias wanted to train him to become a police dog, but Will got shot in training and Tobias had to eventually retire him.” The corners of her mouth turn downwards, as if the pup getting shot had been an annoyance for _Tobias_ rather than a sad thing to happen to the dog. The gunshot wound on the pup’s shoulder is clearly visible. A scar-tissued star. Walking on all Fours is probably painful for him.

“He eventually gave him to us when he got promoted at work. You know, special Police Force tasks don’t leave any time to care for a pet and Will’s become too skittish for field work on the force or even as a... a lure.”

A _lure_. 

You have a slight idea what it means. 

Bait pup. Warm holes. Meat. 

Patti continues, crossing her arms, unconsciously defensive. “Tobias never told us what exactly he’s worth, but he bought him online from overseas. Import costs, vet and basic training alone must’ve been a small _fortune_ and you know how he is...” she laughs, the discomfort of feeling like she has to justify her son’s actions rolling off her body, “it _had_ to be a _British_ _dark curly_ one.” Chuckling, she obviously relives the memory.

“And now he’s living with you...” you start, fixing your eyes on the facial hair and -- as Will yawns -- what appears to be his almost completely filed-down fangs. Not common for pups on the force at all, so probably done when he was just a wee whelp. 

“Yes!” Patti chortles, absentmindedly tugging on Will’s furry half-flopped ear -- he shakes his head in irritation, wrinkling his nose for a second -- “couple of… weeks with this rascal and honestly he’ll eat us out of house and home!” She tries to mask her exasperation by smiling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “So… you’re not looking to adopt by any chance?” she then asks.

You blink away black spots for a second. 

So _this_ is what it was probably all about the whole time.

“Not really... no,” you reply slowly, regarding the pup who suddenly seems to almost sag his shoulders in disappointment. So Will _does_ understand English. Was possibly taught the basics during his brief stint at police school or at the breeding farm overseas.

“Why aren’t you getting him mounted and making money by selling his litter? He’d produce beautiful puppies. And if you get him bred by a small sire, his litter count could probably go up to.. I don’t know, a minimum of five?” 

And truly his puppies would be breathtaking. With his milky white skin, the black leather a stark contrast, and his glossy, curly chestnut-colored hair. His chest is adorned by a healthy flush and you now also notice that all of his 6 nipples are pierced. A telltale fine silver chain -- traditional for a carrier -- is criss-crossing and joining all rings leading up to the thick D-ring that creates the centerpiece of his harness. 

“Litter?” Patti looks down for a second, frowning again, “Oh, the chain… no, Will’s not… what’s it called...”

“A carrier.”

“-A carrier, yes. But no, he’s isn’t. I just haven’t had the time to remove that... stuff, they’re just for… _looks._ Tobias probably liked that, I don’t know, I didn’t ask. But I’m sure it was expensive! And I didn’t want to break something in case he changes his mind and wants to give away Will himself.”

She’s clearly uncomfortable being questioned like that. And it’s obvious Tobias didn’t do that to Will purely for looks. It was for _his_ _pleasure_. You know enough of that world to be aware of a few things Owners get up to. If Will’s _not_ a carrier, the rings and chain are absolutely causing him pain, if jostled too hard or even pulled. No neurological link between a pull to his nipple and a warm feeling of comfort, a safe nest, the tongue of a mate and suckling puppies. 

Only _pain_. 

You shudder at the thought. It’s in the ranks with clipping the ears or tails of animals, only a startlingly more severe level. To only be topped by the likes of a slow chemical castration, or a few cruel Owners who actually like to lead their thoroughbred non-carrier prized possessions not on a collar or harness, but on said nipple chain. A very painful public presentation practice that’s banned by the government in almost all countries. It’s hard to see the head of Will’s penis, but it also doesn’t look like he’s got the typical horizontal [Ampallang piercing](https://www.google.com/search?q=ampallang+piercing&rlz=1C5CHFA_enDE893DE893&oq=ampalla&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j69i57j0i10i457j0i10l5.1511j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8) studs get after reaching maturity. Quite surprising since Tobias seems to have _enjoyed_ his British Curl with modifications.

Eventually you register what your neighbour actually had hinted at. 

“Wait, Patti, are you suggesting you’re looking to _gift_?” 

Will’s eyes give a slow blink and he shifts his weight on the gloved fists in the grass, the muscles under the thick harness moving like glacier-paced waves.

Patti’s visibly nervous, caught in the truth. “Yes, I admit I had originally planned to _sell_ him, but it’s... You know it’s against the _law_ to sell and now I just want to gift him to a good home. To someone who can provide for him and where he can maybe even become part of an existing pack. We honestly can’t afford to care for another mouth at our table right now and we’re still in the family-transition trial period.” 

It might’ve had sounded charitable of Patti not asking for monetary compensation for your potentially taking Will in, but gifting him is an exception of the law if a pup has _just_ been switched between family members. 

A virile, stunning pup like Will, right at the start of his prime age, could easily sire dozens -- if not _hundreds -_ \- of litters for other private breeders and surely is worth a fortune for this family. All of what Patti said frankly sounds entirely shady, but you can’t pinpoint all holes of the story. You don’t even remotely know this family well enough.

“Tell you what, Patti, I’ll take _this_ one,” you sigh and scritch the Golden Retriever behind his ears, “for a walk first and when I return, we can talk more, okay? And you can tell me everything you know about Will.”

At that Will breaks out in a wide grin, his toned body almost visibly straining against the kneeling position, white straight teeth gleaming in the sun and his thick collar moving as he keeps swallowing around an excited whine, nose twitching, long tail wagging behind him.

\---

“So.. I noticed he doesn’t have his Ampallang. Why?” 

Patti is still in the garden, situated in one of those big wooden garden furniture armchairs, opposite you. Will is lying sprawled out at her feet, looking almost like a Wild One (word has they still exist), if it weren’t for the numerous leathery constrictions around his body. 

Also he is now muzzled. Heavily so. A big black, curved leather plate that wraps up everything from chin to right beneath his eyes, secured with two thick straps around the top and back of his head. At least his nose is out, but only four small holes in the leather where the mouth is. It’s a hot day and he cannot drink like this. 

You huff to yourself. Surely the muzzle is more for aesthetic than actual caution. Like a lot of his gear.

“I don’t know,” Patti replies. Her words sound final. Not uncaring, but you suspect that she knows too little about what it means to be an Owner to understand. 

Will is beautiful like this. But now that you’re able to drink your fill on his body, it’s painfully apparent that the harness hasn’t been removed in a while. 

Patti nudges her foot against Will’s flank. The reaction is immediate. Even while lying down, he flinches away and retreats to a kneeling position in front of her, blue eyes searching Patti’s face. Attentive, but nervous. Head sinking between his shoulders with every breath he takes.

The soles of his feet are black with grime and dirt. He doesn’t smell like anything, not from a few meters away at least. Still, his appearance speaks for overwhelmed Owners.

“What else can you tell me about him? Is he chipped and vaxxed? Do you have his pedigree papers and medical ID?” you ask, sliding out of your chair, slowly kneeling closer to Will. He turns his head, his nostrils flaring subtly, carefully scenting the air.

From the sound of it, Patti lights a cigarette. Your eyes are still roaming over Will’s physique, almost like wanting to read this book by its gleaming cover.

“Yeah, I have all the paperwork and he’s chipped and all. His full name is William Róuget Graham the, uh... Third -- or something like that. There’s more.. I can never recall. I’m gonna go get the papers.” and she’s up and into the house. Pretty quick for having an _agonizingly painful_ back. 

You suspect it’s no coincidence that Patti has everything _at the ready_. Maybe Will hasn’t been here for months, but days. Probably. And maybe that’s why he’s still draped in his finest presentation gear. Also probably. 

Alone for the first time, you feel a little braver and reach out your hand. 

“Hey there, lil curly, nice to meet you.” 

Will eyes the outstretched fingers a little warily, then looks back up at your eyes for just a second. His body subtly angles itself towards you and he bends down to sniff at the offered wrist. Just like he learned in puppy school.

You retreat into your own head for a second, assessing the situation. 

Will was probably never supposed to stay here for long. A layover to whatever kind of hands that awaited him. Not exactly legal, either.

“I’m going to touch your head,” you say and slide your hand into the mop of curls. It’s soft, but has a few knots here and there. Will instantly pushes against the caress and even though his mouth isn’t visible, the smile reaches his eyes and chubs up his cheeks. “Look at you, baby. Such a good pup.” 

The praise comes easily and the way it’s so eagerly received solidifies what you already knew in your heart and gut when you had returned ten minutes ago: 

This pup has found his forever home.

Will strains to nuzzle forward, but he’s so well trained, he stays rooted in a kneeling position, even though he’s almost vibrating out of his skin to try and scoot closer.

Sounds are a whole different story, though. Vocal expression of pleasure is highly praised in pups, so you’re not surprised at the quiet keening sound that slips out behind the thick leather of the muzzle. You smile as you notice the pup has started wiggling his behind in excitement, the end of his tail -- covered in soft, tiny dark brown curls -- lightly thumping at the ground.

“Been awhile since you got a good cuddle, hm?” you ask more yourself than Will, but the high pitched, almost pitiful whimper that comes as a reply speaks volumes. Your heart clenches at the longing sound.

The nipple chain is so cruel. Probably never having let Will experience a proper rut when he reached sexual maturity -- hence his missing Ampallang -- doesn’t speak to proper care. Instead he seems to be in one of the worst states a pup can be in: completely touch-starved. 

Puppy dogs are extremely social beings and form tight knit lifelong packs. A re-homed pup is rare, as the law usually requires the purchased pup to stay within either the familiar pack or go back to their litter entirely. 

As Will is from overseas, it might’ve been harder to track down the rest of his litter to try and give him a new place in one of their homes, but it would’ve been worth it, for his sake. He’s completely defenseless without a pack and you doubt Tobias is unaware of that. Maybe he even cared about it a little, since he passed Will on within the family, but you doubt Tobias has ever told his mother Will would have to stay until either one of them dies. 

With most pups reaching an age of at least twelve to thirteen -- which is eighty-four to ninety-one human years -- Will would’ve most likely survived her and then passed on as inheritance. Small breeds can even age up to about eighteen pup years — overtaking a an entire person’s lifespan by at least thirty to forty human years. 

Horror stories of abandoned pups that end up on the streets -- outlawed, raped, captured, sold off, devoured, torn apart -- dot the headlines of PupDog Rights blogs a few times a year. Since every pup is chipped with a tracker and tri-yearly check ups are mandatory, the government keeps a tight track of all pups within the country, but obviously... where there’s laws, there’s loopholes, and when loopholes are exhausted, there’s crime.

You don’t even want to think about this mesmerizing, gentle being thrown to whoever has a taste for a fully grown defenseless, touch starved pup, as soon as your neighbour gets impatient to finally be rid of the ‘hungry, hungry mouth at her table’. 

You’re still caressing Will’s head when Patti returns with a folder. 

“Here’s all his stuff. Look,” she opens it and takes out a couple of folded sheets as if you could see anything from this distance, “Ah yes, it says here... he’s a... a British Curl in duo-dark color. Brown, blue, brown.”

You snort quietly. It’ll never not be strange to not only list the color of their eyes and hair on their head, but also the color of the particular pup’s pubic hair.

“Does it say anything about diseases?” you ask. 

Your hand keeps softly caressing Will’s slightly sweaty forehead. His eyes are closed and he’s rumbling low in his throat. The nipple chain chimes against the thick leather of his harness.

Patti doesn’t reply. You look up and see her face has lost some color. 

“Something wrong?” 

She looks pained. “He’s... Oh, Tobias has never _told_ me this!”

A little unsettled, you instinctively take a hold of Will’s collared nape, which he allows without question; used to being held there while getting leashed. “Told you what?”

“Will is... infertile. Always was. Right from birth, it says here.” With every word her voice climbs a note in pitch. 

A pressed punch of air leaves your mouth at the same time as Will gives a whiny huff, turning his face away with lowered lashes. He probably understood what was being said and you sincerely hope this isn’t the first time he ever heard this news.

As unexpected as it is, there’s no disappointment to be found in your mind. You wouldn’t engage in breeding pups anyway. It’s always been _adopt, don’t shop._

Patti, on the other hand, looks ashen. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t _know_ ,” she laments, red manicured fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

You could honestly care less about how Patti feels about this revelation when there’s a clearly distressed pup in front of you, who currently keeps taking deeper and deeper breaths. On the cusp of panicking. You put your fingers below Will’s chin to gently tip his face back so he’s looking in your direction. He’s avoiding eye contact, face miserable. 

“Hey now, sweet one,” with a soft touch you brush back a curl from his forehead and try to put as much earnestness into your voice as possible: “Don’t be ashamed. It’s not your fault and it’s not a bad thing. You’re perfect the way you are, baby, you’re a _very good_ pup.” 

Big blue, watery eyes meet yours for a second, then back down to your mouth. Visible distress rolls down his form in waves as he keeps trying to cower. 

It really is time to get out of here.

With a huff you stand up and hook a finger into the big silver ring connected to Will’s collar. “Please get his leash and things, Patti. _I accept this gift with gratitude_ and will take him home now.” 

\---

“Please walk on Twos, pup.” you regard Will with a warm smile and wait for him to unfold himself to fully stand, “and until I say otherwise, you can walk on Twos whenever you like, yeah?” Will’s face brightens and a small purr escapes his throat. 

It’s obvious he hasn’t walked on Twos in days -- which makes the fact of the state of his feet even more concerning -- taking at least a full minute to first stretch his back, presenting beautifully, then carefully getting up and stretching out all of his limbs. 

His height standing up must be around 175 cm, almost 6 feet, for sure. Quite a big pup for this delicate breed, usually wanted to unobtrusively curl up at their Owners feet.

The thick leather harness creaks in places, the thin nip chain clinking against the big centered D-ring as Will starts walking. 

His leash isn’t more than a few centimeters long, a typical _Shorty_ for physical presentations at pup championships. It’s not for everyday use at all, as Will is even getting jostled by the neck when you’re walking next to each other. It’s purely for public presentation of well bred creatures like this British Curl, which Tobias probably thoroughly enjoyed. Oh yes, you can imagine just _how_ much.

After receiving a friendly goodbye from Patti, which she doesn’t extend to Will, and leaving her property behind, you finally take a look into the big bag that’s slumped over your shoulder. 

Even though the bag is large, in it is little more than two bowls, one well-used rolled up dog bed, two hole-y blankies -- that Will probably tried to make a new nest with -- a substitute golden nipple chain, a genital cage which looks two sizes too small (so it’s probably from his whelp years), and two small steel plugs with a fake gemstone base. 

Plugs are used for various reasons, but the ones you were given for Will are usually put in pups at championships for aesthetic reasons. 

Patti didn’t mention any pageants or championships Tobias ever registered Will for -- the nipple piercings on a non-carrier would also have disqualified him immediately --, but he might’ve been there as a guest and still plugged Will as part of showing him off. 

There are also longer and/or bigger steel and silicone plugs that get used as a rut or heat trigger and then also relief, as they reach the prostate or g-spot and can mimic a knot.

Properly trained from whelping years, a flexible plug at night for a pup can also have the same soothing effect a pacifier has for a human baby. There’s strictly nothing sexual about it _until_ a pup has reached maturity at 3 years old -- the equivalent of 21 human years -- and starts experiencing their first heat or rut. 

At this point, the next level of training can be introduced. Prostate and g-spot stimulation is naturally a vital part of it.

The 3-year _Maturities_ traditionally end with the pup going through their first heat or rut -- unaided by a mate -- and end in them receiving their vet-issued nipple piercings and chain or their Ampallang piercing and chain. Breeding farm newbies are then also branded on their back, belly, ass or upper thigh. 

Will has probably never officially completed his _Maturities_ and went through a rut, since he doesn’t have the Ampallang to prove it. He _might’ve_ had a rut in the years _after_ turning 3, but unless you’d ask Tobias, you’ll never know. 

While slowly walking, your eyes travel down to Will’s soft penis trapped in the thin leather cage. He looks to be cut, which is to be expected from a british litter, but... no, there’s definitely no piercing.

The afternoon sun is slowly sinking beneath the leafy treetops while you trot next to each other at moderate speed, suiting the Virginian August heat. It’s still quite a walk until you even reach the main road, so the pathway is barely wide enough to allow you to walk next to each other.

“I trust you without the leash,” you say and smile at Will while you swiftly unclip the _Shorty._ The pup is slightly behind you and huffs through the small holes of the muzzle, “so be good and don’t run away, okay? I promise you’re going to like your new home. You won’t be alone ever again.” 

Your hand slots around Will’s nape, who leans into your space and gives a responding timid purr, as if to say _‘Okay, I really hope so._ ’

With another look at his chest, a huff escapes your mouth, “And let’s take off this nasty chain and these fucked little torture devices.” 

It’s almost startling, this sudden bout of deepset anger towards Tobias that rolls over you. Abusive and careless Owners like him should get _way_ higher penalties. Especially since he’s a fucking police officer himself and _knows_ the law. Probably thinks he’s above it.

Will lifts his head as you gently take hold of the chain, and eyes warily what you’re doing. When a pained yelp escapes his mouth behind the muzzle, your left hand strokes down his flank in a typical soothing gesture. “I know it hurts, baby, but you can’t move when I take out the rings or I’ll rip your nips. I really don’t want to sedate you for this.”

Both of your hands get back to work, ghosting over his slightly sweaty skin, making sure not to rip on anything. The individual piercings look poorly healed, some still crusting where metal enters skin. It’s substandard piercing work in general. Gruesome. Not atypical for illegal piercing on a puppy. Luckily nothing is infected, though. 

It’s been a while since you handled nip rings on a not-human, but after a few gentle tries, the first, second and eventually all six rings slip free.

Will is panting, shaking now, defined muscles coiled tight, freeze framed by your command.

“Good job, Will! Such a lovely pup! See?” you caress the pup’s sweaty temple, then scratch behind curly-haired ears until his breathing visibly slows. 

“All done. No more pain for you. The only piercing you’ll ever wear now is your Ampallang.” 

His blue eyes widen in surprise, even meeting yours for a second. 

“But not until you’ve had your rut.” 

Will -- understandably -- still doesn’t look convinced at all. 

With a last soothing caress to his head, you withdraw your hand. “You’ll love your Ampallang, sweetheart. No need to be scared.”

\---

Halfway through the walk you finally reach the main road and stop because Will’s panting gets heavier and heavier. Without the narrow trees, there’s not a lot of shade and the air seems humid, like a weighted blanket. 

With a frown, you grab the buckle of his muzzle. “Time to remove this, sweetheart. Come here.”

Will holds still as the two buckles are carefully opened without tearing out strands of his unruly curls and takes a few big gulps of air once the muzzle is finally pulled from his sweaty, reddened face.

“Don’t bite,” you warn him, no heat in your voice. “I’m going to clean your face. Hold still for me, baby.” 

The urge to speak to Will like to a coltish fawn is strong. Even though his body is well muscled and he seems strong and in okay physical health, every time hands hover near his face, the flinch is unmistakable and it wouldn’t be the first or second time you got bitten by a scared dog while trying to take care of them.

“I wish you could talk,” you sigh more to yourself than to Will, half joking, while a wet wipe softly cleans his face, corners of his plush, pink mouth and along his nostrils. Finally you rub it through his well-groomed beard, then down to the edge of his thick collar.

Will keeps his eyes closed, tilting his head back a bit, again presenting his neck. He lets out a low whine and then another aborted purr. Vocal chords still croaky from disuse.

“I’m glad you can probably understand what I say, though. That’s going to make introductions a lot easier.”

Finished, you step back from the pup, his face now smelling faintly of lavender. One of your favorite scents for using near pups’ sensitive noses.

A hand slips under one of the broad leather straps of the harness and rubs the skin underneath, testing. 

“Yeah. I can’t wait to get you out of this and give you a proper bath, you poor love. All grimey.” You shake your head, eyes roaming over his form. “Are you hurting at all?”

Will bites his lower lip in thought and seems to actively feel out into his body, rolling his shoulders and tilting his neck to the far left, as if trying to crack it ending in a full body shudder.

“Your harness bothering you, pup? It does look a little tight.” Decidedly you set to loosen all the buckles to give Will a bit more wiggle room and after it’s done, the harness still looks snug. Figures.

Suddenly a cautious clenched hand repeatedly nudges yours and you look up in surprise. Seldom has a pup ever actively _reached_ for your hand before. 

Of course Will can’t grab anything, as pups genetically can’t unclench their fists, but he is very insistent on _getting at_ your hand in whatever way is possible for him.

“You want to hold hands, puppy?” your tone is amused, heart warmed. Will just huffs and the corners of his mouth twitch into a shy embarrassed smile.

At this point, after walking in the sun for quite some time, the sweaty pup is definitely in dire need of a splash in the nearby river. The repeated shaking of his whole body bears sad testament to that. 

\---

Your house is at the end of a long, narrow pathway, barely wide enough to accommodate a car. It’s winding like a snake through the thick of the evergreen forest. Some welcome shade to shelter you both until your small, white two-story house comes into view. 

You can hear muffled barking from afar. Winston, a red Aussie mix and Leda, a small white-brown Jack Russel mutt, probably at the forefront of your pack of five, wet snuffling noses pressed up to the front door. As is to be expected.

Will’s movements get choppy as he intensely starts scenting the air. Frowning, he turns his head to you and scents again. Then full on stops. Then takes two steps backwards.

“Yeah, you can smell them, huh? Good nose work, pup.” A soothing hand loops around Will’s collared nape and strokes through the sweaty curls to empathize the praise. 

“Let’s keep going, honey, no need to be shy. They’ll all love you.” 

Just to be sure, you clip the _Shorty_ back onto the thick ring at the back of his collar and give a soft pull until Will hesitantly follows, eyes flitting to take in as much of his new surroundings as possible, ears rotating, on alert. 

As you arrive at the porch, Will is panting hard. The looser harness seemingly still too tight to allow his lungs to fully inflate. His chest is flushed and the base of his tail tucked tightly between his legs, just the end of it rapidly wagging with nerves. His nose is constantly working, obviously still debating with himself, big blues enthroned by deeply creased brows. 

“Everything’s alright, pup,” you smile reassuringly, ”now, I feel I can’t yet trust you to stay here and not run off while I go in and although we could track your scent easily, I’m too worn out for a hunt today.”

Will’s eyes widen for a second and his mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

Tightening the grip on the leash, you give a gentle nudge towards the front door. Two furry, panting animal faces are clearly visible right behind the screen door.

When you open it, a flurry of five of them stampede their way out into the yard, none of them caring too much about Will other than a quick sniff in his direction. Winston is the only one to make a few extra rounds of Will’s legs and lick his kneecap, which makes Will yip in surprise. 

Although he was just rescued out of a household with a Golden Retriever, he doesn’t seem to have too much on-paw experience with animals. 

You peek into the house, eyes getting used to the darkness and decisively but carefully ushering Will into the living room. He’s clearly distressed, trying to sidestep you and retreat. His nose is working, the loud huffing and scenting noises distinguishable against the quiet of the house.

The animals outside are playing, muffled sounds of them only softly audible inside the living room you’re standing in. 

Until you hear it. 

The low growl is quiet. Almost too quiet for your human ears at first, but _Will_ has heard it. Has heard _him_. 

Has probably smelled him already from fifty meters away, but couldn’t discern it from the animals. 

“Now, now, Hannibal, what a way to greet a new member of the family,” you scold lightheartedly into the darkness of the small hallway, which leads into the kitchen and bathroom at the back of the house.

You stroke Will’s sweaty back. The muscles are entirely tense. He’s ready to pounce, but his fear and uncertainty is clear in the way his tail is tightly wrapped around his upper thigh. A natural thing to do. Self soothing; and in case he needs to run or attack, his tail won’t get caught in anything.

The growling from the dark hallway doesn’t stop, so you decide to rather let them greet each other outside the property where it’s more neutral grounds. Your first rescue isn’t that territorial, but this _is_ _his_ home.

A small bout of frustration overcomes you as you think of how much better you could’ve prepared for this situation had you known how today was going to play out. 

Will seems to instantly pick up that mood and -- as his nature dictates -- projects the feeling onto his own panic. With a distinct growl he crowds backwards and puts his arms backwards against your sides, as if to cage you in and protect. 

“There’s nobody to fight here, Will,” you gently grab a fistful of curls at the back of his head. With the other hand you reach for the fifteen meter running leash that hangs next to the door, and clip it into the thick ring that connects all broad straps of Will’s harness at this back. There’s not a lot of space for the bulky carabiner there, but a small snap hook would potentially break if Will were to panic-run against the leash, straining the metal with triple his weight.

You wrap the end of the running leash around your hand and call out to the hallway.

“You can say hello to Will outside, Hannibal. Be a sweet pup and follow us when I’m outside, yeah? But keep your distance. No sneaky spooks!” 

A huff is all the reply you get. You’re glad you kept Hannibal’s summer harness on him before you left, instead of only his usual silk collar. It encases his strong shoulders, a medium sized brown leather strap meeting in a D-ring on front and back. 

The correct harness strap width for pups is traditionally measured by the width of their erect genitals, but you feel making Hannibal wear such a thick harness around the clock would be cruel. 

Will seems glad to be allowed back outside, breathing fresh air, and as soon as you let go of his nape, he jogs a few steps away from you. But not before throwing you a look. There’s slight betrayal in his eyes, but mostly confusion. He yawns, full-body-shakes, then yawns again – clear signs of distress.

“I know you’re scared, baby, but I promise it’s alright. Come to me,” you beckon with your outstretched hand, palm up. 

Will looks like he has half a mind of following the command, but then the door of the house opens and his eyes fixate on the other pup stepping out into the sunlight. 

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you have to stay calm on the outside. This is a situation you have had certified Owner training for, but it had never actually happened with your own dogs before. Theory can only prepare _so_ much. 

It’s hard to stay focused on the nervous British Curl, who keeps walking backwards towards the edge of the yard, stumbling a few times, where the pinewood forest starts, never taking his eyes off the big Lithuanian Brighthound stalking him with calculated, heavy steps. Hannibal’s chest is puffed up, shoulders flexed, his long-haired ash-blonde tail isn’t visible but probably stands up straight. His prowl has always been mesmerizingly beautiful, but it’s mildly unsettling right now.

“Keep your distance, Hannibal!”, you click your tongue in warning the moment he’s about to pass you by, redirecting his eyes to you instead of Will’s frightened face. “You be _good,_ you hear? Will is a lovely pup. He’s been abandoned, too.” At that Hannibal visibly scents the air. 

“He’s pack now. _Family_.” you add. Pleasantly surprised that your voice isn’t wavering at all. 

You turn back around and notice Will has started a slow jog and has already almost reached the end of the clearing, leash close to its end now.

Belatedly you realize you should’ve probably muzzled one of them. Probably Hannibal. 

Usually an Owner, in moments like this, could use a slim lead chained to the pup’s piercing, but unfortunately that’s never an option with Hannibal. You had learned very quickly that the neurological comfort the pull to the piercing is supposed to give a stud has been completely extinguished in Hannibal. He’s unfortunately been conditioned to know that a chain to his piercing means punishment is imminent.

Right now you want to make sure Hannibal is not feeling too uneasy or threatened. Especially since he’s not on a leash and in the grand scheme of things _you_ have brought a strange pup into _his_ territory. This is a trust exercise for you as much as it is for him.

Sweat starts to build on your forehead. In theory, both of the dogs can smell it fine, but Hannibal has an _exceptionally_ keen sense of smell. Were Will to run away now, Hannibal would easily be able to track him weeks later. 

He should have already picked up on the fact that Will is no carrier and will hopefully also quickly sniff out that the younger pup is not fertile, which will instantly eliminate him as any kind of competition for Superior of the pack, a position Hannibal has held for years. All animals yield to him just as well as to you. 

Having finally reached the border of your yard -- after Will has already surpassed it -- Hannibal is still right behind you. Turning around, you make a quick grab of Hannibal’s frontal harness to keep him from passing you by, careful not to pull on the thick grey nest of curly chest hair. He shouldn’t get too close to Will, yet, whose blue eyes flit nervously between the two of you, fresh sweat shining on his chest and arms. 

Hannibal doesn’t go for Will, though. Instead he goes for your _neck_. Sticks his face to your jugular, then your temple and inhales and exhales. With a loud purr he licks a broad stripe along the side of your neck. Comfort, assurance and bonding. 

For a second you ask yourself if you misread his body language and all the posturing was more because he needed to display _his_ Owner to Will. Hannibal’s always been a peculiar creature.

With a hum and smile, you gently pet down his soft flank. It’s always been calming for him, even when he wakes up whining and wet-eyed. 

“Look at you, sweetheart. All growl, no bark, huh?” no mocking taints your tone. You’re proud of him behaving, coming to you for guidance instead of trying to settle the situation himself and making his own decisions. 

Hannibal’s purr comes loud and clear, his back now turned to Will. Another sign of trust towards you, eliciting a wide smile. 

A Lithuanian Brighthound is a special and rare breed of bloodhound and Hannibal’s pedigree even dates back to the 1700s, a breed that was almost extinct when he was born. They’re specifically bred for their record-winning noses and prey drive, known for being ever-alert, never losing sight of their prey -- not by sight and definitely never by scent. 

As a Wild One or even a hunting dog he’d have stared Will down until he surrendered. Then taken out his neck with one single bite.

“Such a lovely pup,” you coo with a smile, still petting down his warm flank, “my very best boy. _So_ well behaved!” 

Hannibal lets out a happy huff at that, accompanied by a smile fully reaching his clear maroon eyes. He’s preening. It never fails to look absolutely adorable.

“You’ll greet Will like my good boy, right? You’re going to play with him?” 

Hannibal’s face starts beaming like the sun, sharp fangs on display. His swishy tail wags in excitement at the permission and -- to your surprise -- even his cock twitches in interest. 

It’s been _years_ for him and after getting collected several times a day for _decades_ , it must’ve been a hell of a change to have suddenly been retired from his stud duties. 

Still, he has never worn a cage or some kind of genital contraception and is the most sexually well-behaved pup you have ever come across. Not once in his life has he mounted without the consent of his Owners. 

Granted, it’s entirely possible he learned it the painful way.

As a breeding farm rescue, there hadn’t been a lot of useful information in the info box of his adoption ad online. He’d been listed on eBark for about a month before the foster home -- which wasn’t even specified in breeding farm fosters and a bit in over their well-meaning heads with Hannibal -- tried their luck with a short video on The Woof social media network. 

There you had seen him first and checked out the ad right away.

*

**Special VERY RARE _Lithuanian Brighthound_ MALE, age 7 (55 h.y.)**

SEEKING NEW HOME IMMEDIATELY

“HANNIBAL Įžymus Lecter XI”   
Lithuanian Brighthound  
purebred (full pedigree documents present)  
b. 1965  
183 cm / 6’0’’  
85 kg / 190 lbs  
silver, maroon, tri-color + silver-chested  
intact, uncut, 2XL, knot rut-inexclusive  
A- Maturities / 1 min. 8 secs  
Amp. pierced 06/1986  
no int. vet passport + lifelong int. travel ban  
chipped + vaxxed + dewormed  
tri-check incl. teeth 02/2016  
no de-fanging, no filing, neutering for health-related reasons only!

 _Baltimore Breeds_ surrender (2015), branded  
NO live cover exp.!!!! + is not recommended for this breed  
not recommended as pure companion pup   
not suitable as stud for private breeding farm  
no children  
no small animals  
housebroken

!!!!!!MUST HAVE Owner certification 3rd Degree!!!!!! 

$ 5,000 adoption fee, excl. travel cover

If interested, e-mail fullershouse-foster@mail.org with all details and your certification registry number

*

It had been just a lot of clinical information. Probably mostly copy pasted from his official Baltimore Breeds stud data file. No useful mentions about his behaviour, character, likes or dislikes or even a few of his interests. As if his 80s Maturities grade or timed top climax speed would matter for an adoption into a loving home. 

At least online they had left out the number of litters he had sired, which was well over 600; the foster home had told you the day you picked Hannibal up. 

Meaning with 2-3 puppies per litter, there are currently at least between 1,200 and 1,800 mini versions of your beautiful Lithi running around. Typically for a breeding farm stud, Hannibal has surely never seen or sniffed a single one of his tiny puppies, nor has he seen or been able to nuzzle a single full, pregnant belly of a mother who carried his babies. 

Come to think about it, you’re not even sure whether he was ever able to make the connection of what people actually _did_ with what they took from him or in what _quantities_ they used it. 

With Hannibal’s special gene pool, it’s likely his offspring were mostly being bred for law enforcement, rescue services, guard service or the military. In the 90s, when the Lithuanian Brighthound had a revival in Europe, many celebrities developed a taste for them and what they could offer. 

You slip out of these memories when Hannibal does a full body shake and turns to Will. The old farm branding on the middle of his back is faded, the letters in the big circle completely illegible now. 

Will’s eyes widen slightly when they zoom in on Hannibal’s midriff, on his half-hard cock; nostrils working visibly to try to get a taste of this strange, big, overeager pup in front of him. 

“Go ahead, Hannibal, _play_.” you pet down his shoulder and Hannibal purrs in response. “Gentle, though. No biting. He can’t retaliate with his filed teefies.” 

Even though you were the one who gave him permission, your heart still leaps into your throat when Hannibal starts purposefully strutting towards the younger pup. 

Logically you know he will not seriously harm Will and definitely won’t try to mount, but the scent of the British Curl definitely seems to be Doing Something for Hannibal. Possibly subconsciously Will produces a scent that Hannibal distinctively connects with arousal; perhaps also with collection. He’s never live covered, though, so you’re not sure he would even know what to _do_ other than feeling the subconscious basic instincts of _mount, fuck, knot, breed._

Will stays firmly planted, head bowed, now avoiding eye contact. The sheen of sweat on his skin glistens in the sun, moved by the heavy breaths that ripple through him. The closer Hannibal’s nose comes to his neck, the heavier he’s panting.

It’s a beautiful display. The way Hannibal’s powerful body instantly gravitates around the younger, smaller pup. Like the moon around the earth. Wild waves around a protruding cliff. Hannibal completely unrestrained - Will fully harnessed, caged and collared. In visible automatic submission. There’s nothing beastly about them in that moment. 

Will lets out a high pitched whine, anxious and impatient, and moves to put his nose near Hannibal’s neck. The older pup shakes his hair out and halts to let himself be scented, tail swishing excitedly, a serene smile on his face and instantly purring for Will. 

“ _Good_ boy, Hannibal. Look at you, so gentle.”

Words can’t describe how proud you are of your Lithi. He’s come so far. A few years ago he wouldn’t even have tolerated another pup in a 1 km radius of the house without trying to hunt and maul them. You even had to put up signs to stay away from the property. Not that many visitors got lost in these Virginian woods in the first place, but better safe than sorry.

You step closer to them, but invade their newly-made bubble for just a second to swiftly clip the leash off Will’s harness so they’re both free. Meanwhile Hannibal’s purr resembles more song than anything else as he starts nosing along Will’s jaw and keeps snuffling his nose all over his neck and into his curls, still trying not to crowd Will too much. With a shy smile the younger pup closes his eyes, but still strains to lean into Hannibal’s space. 

“Aren’t you two just sweet.” you coo softly, heart constricting with emotion. 

It’s so easy to want to give them everything they’ve been starved of. To want to grant Hannibal permission to allow Will into his nest so they both finally get all the cuddles and love they’ve deserved all their life. 

Hannibal’s cock gives a strong twitch, at which he slow blinks into your direction.

“Go ahead, baby, you can play if you want.” 

Will looks up at that, then to Hannibal and with a curious noise, down to the fully hard cock that pokes into his hip. 

He seems to zero in on the Ampallang piercing, the steel silver rod that’s horizontally pierced through the head now visibly exposed. The small silvery steel balls at the ends of the rod have tiny holes to each accommodate a ring, if need be. Like the tiniest bridle in the world, one would traditionally attach a similar thin steel chain there. Same make of Will’s previous (torture) chain. 

For studs, a soft tug on the piercing is neurologically connected to the pleasing feeling of being locked inside a mate and brings with it the positive side effect of the pup feeling safe and calm. 

Will drops to his knees without request and -- to your surprise -- immediately starts rubbing his cheek to Hannibal’s upper thigh and hip, not very subtly scenting his sizeable cock and testicles. Hannibal huffs as if amused and lets Will explore as he likes. His ashen fluffy tail excitedly swishes at almost lightning speed. 

Their bodies speak their very own language. Will’s curly haired tail swishes left to right as if in slow motion, his blue eyes at half mast. Obviously entranced by whatever he’s smelling.

You turn for a second to check on the animals in the yard, but they’re still bouncing about in the first few meters of forest. Looks like they found a forgotten colourful ball in the underbrush.

At the sound of yipping and a _thud_ you turn back around, finding the sweetest unexpected sight.

Hannibal too is now kneeling, purr going strong and thoroughly snuffling through Will’s curls, nosing along his neck and shoulders; rounding him with slow, deliberate movements and boldly rubbing his flank along Will’s as he finishes his circle. 

Finally, the older pup bears down on his front and invites Will to play, big tail curving up over his own back, almost touching his own head. 

With a swift imitation of the pose, Will then rolls to the side, agreeing to play and Hannibal happily snaps at the air. 

The absolute bliss on the younger pups face, as the two start to play wrestle and shove at each other, almost feels _too much_. It’s so sweet, your heart’s getting fuller by the second.

And later, as they both splash and swim in the nearby river together, climbing all over each other with happy, panting smiles, it almost feels like Will has always been here. 

It’s not how you saw today playing out, but providing your wonderful Lithi with a packmate and the little curly with a loving forever family, is more than you could have asked for. 

\---

They take to each other like every Owner’s dream. 

Subconsciously it feels like with Will’s arrival is a missing piece that has clicked into place. Maybe more so for Hannibal, but it’s not like he could have told you that he had been lonely. 

You hadn’t planned to get him a packmate anytime soon and now that you’re seeing how content and happy Will’s presence seems to make him, there’s a cold sense of regret that you didn’t think of it sooner. 

But had it happened sooner, it wouldn’t have been _Will_ and with the way Hannibal was hard to handle for many years, not at all socialised and not even familiar with taking walks in the forest, you hadn’t been sure he was ready to share his territory yet. Or at all. 

But now fate has decided for the both of you. 

In retrospect it must’ve been love at first sight for him.

You don’t even have to convince Hannibal to let Will sleep next to or on the bed with him. Or to eat next to each other. Or to groom him for hours. 

He has no hesitation to let Will into any of his spaces, in the house, his nest or on his body. Always tries to get him there, even. Sometimes scruffing and almost dragging him somewhere. An easy feat with the way Will instantly turns pliant the second the older pup’s sharp fangs lodge into the skin of his neck. Never enough to break skin, but undoubtedly asserting dominance.

At first Will seems nervous and hesitant about sharing a bed or nest, probably never having been allowed near the sleeping space of Tobias. The first nights his eyes roam the corners of the bedroom, perhaps looking for a kennel. 

There are no kennels in this pack. Not even for the animals. You even bought a giant new bed after you adopted Hannibal, so that everyone, including the dogs, would be completely comfortable during sleep. 

Will will huff and settle on the bed or in the plush nest in front of the bedroom heater. A nest Hannibal has proudly expanded quite remarkably within the second day of the younger pup’s arrival. 

Minutes later, and now every night without fail, Hannibal will then curl around Will. An all-encompassing, warm, breathing presence; a strong heartbeat against his back. 

Without the full body harness, Will looks almost completely naked; allowed to now wear just a medium-wide shoulder-to-waist harness without a collar.

You’re sure you have never seen their faces with a more content smile than when they’re wrapped up like this. 

\---

A week after Will moving in, it’s become apparent that Hannibal will definitely try to mate with the younger pup. It’s just a matter of time and Will’s consent. 

It’s a completely natural occurrence and with the way they reacted when first meeting, you kind of expected it. Secretly and gleefully wished for them to find their happiness together. 

Since Hannibal has never actually mated with or mounted a living creature in all his long life, though, it might be difficult. You hope at least Will has some experience, but with him not even pierced and then in police dog training right afterwards, it’s doubtful.

So you watch a lot of educational videos on how to assist them, if need be.

On a few occasions they’ve spent hours on end licking their necks and nuzzling the other’s faces, their mingled purrs like a steady hum in the living room. Sometimes you watch them for a while, making sure they’re not hurting each other. But it’s also fascinating. Lots of it you have never seen outside of educational videos in Owner training or on Pup channels on the internet. 

Hannibal is incredibly gentle with the younger pup. Hasn’t even been this gentle when you two were cuddling or he’s curling up with the animals -- which he hasn’t done once since Will moved in. Admittedly you’re a bit sad about it, but it’s also completely natural for Hannibal to completely focus on his soon-to-be-mate in their current courting phase. 

His face goes completely soft every time he looks at Will, like the pup holds all the stars in the sky in his paws. 

If you had thought he’d always looked content and happy when it was dinnertime and he got a special cut of fresh, bloody stag lungs or horse heart, or when you read him the story of Achilles and Patroclus, it doesn’t remotely compare to the utter enamoured expression in his bright and round maroon eyes when they now fall on Will.

It’s sweet and innocent. 

Until it isn’t anymore.

Only two weeks after the younger pup’s arrival, you wake to the bed shaking and sit up with a jolt. 

Heart racing, you’re scared there’s someone hurt, but quickly realisation sets in. Those keening and whining noises that can be heard in the blackness of the room, at the end of the bed, are not from _pain_ , but from Will sitting on Hannibal’s midriff and rutting against him with erratic jerks of his hips. 

For a second you’re a bit panicked that Hannibal’s managed to get inside Will already, but as your eyes get used to the darkness, you can make out Hannibal’s hard cock, slipping and sliding between the cheeks of Will’s ass. 

Its impressive length repeatedly bumps at the root of Will’s tail. A tail that the younger pup keeps lifting and spreading to the side. A clear invitation to mate him. _Already._

Will’s face looks sweaty in the moonlight and blissed out, his own hard cock rubbing over the sharp cut of the older pup’s hip. His breathy cut-off sounds almost resemble human moans. 

Your brow rises in sleepy irritation, “Seriously, you little horndogs, _right_ here on the bed while I’m trying to sleep?” The voice that comes out of your mouth isn’t more than a tired croak, no heat behind any of the words at all. 

In your snoozy state you have half a mind to break them up and command them off the bed, but at least it seems like they’re going to be finished soon. 

Admittedly it is a bit weird to try to fall back asleep with a whining, huffing ball of rutting, sweaty limbs at the foot of the bed, but not weirder than when the animals are humping the couch pillows again. Or a stray cat. Which happened _twice_. 

It’s just that the pups really do shake the whole bed.

When Will’s melodic panting stutters and he chokes on a sharp inhale, you close your eyes with a smile, hoping to finally be able to get back to sleep. 

Eventually there’s a little more movement on the bed, paired with soft rustling noises and then Will’s loud purr fills the room. As well as the distinct sound of licking. 

With one slitted eye you peep down towards the dogs and find Hannibal lavishly cleaning Will’s belly and spent cock while also rubbing his cheek all over his skin, scent marking himself with the younger pup’s semen. 

You’d say your Lithi is _tidy as ever_ , but tasting a respective soon-to-be mate’s ejaculate is one of the final parts of courtship for dogs.

With another smile, at last, sleep finally returns to you. 

\---

With the way things progress the next few weeks, it shouldn’t be long until one of them will try to mount the other and since neither of them is a carrier, they won’t produce any natural slick. From training you know there’s ways to teach them alternatives, but you want to wait and see how they naturally progress. 

You had also hoped that Will’s rut would be induced naturally by the physical contact and the prospect of a mate, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. He _needs_ this rut, though, not just to consent to Hannibal mating with him, but also to finally be ready for the vet to give him his Ampallang. 

It’s such a vital and final step of the process to finally grow into a mature pup, it’s an utter insolence Will has been robbed of this feeling of completeness for so many years just because Tobias preferred a different _look_. 

If he so badly wanted a carrier to show off all of their visual assets and was fine with buying a puppy online, he should’ve _bought_ at least the mix he had obviously wanted and not try and make his pup appear something he wasn’t, at the expense of Will’s health. 

To induce Will’s rut, you decide to order a custom-made contraception for Will’s cock. Something you heard about first on your favourite Owner Training video channel. 

After it arrives, you get Will to lie down on the floor, petting down his flank in a soothing motion.

“I got you something that helps induce your rut, baby, but you gotta stay very still while I put it on, okay? Can you be my good pup?” 

Hannibal has Will’s head in his lap and keeps switching between snuffling at Will’s face and shooting you worried looks.

You carefully put one wide leather ring around Will’s testicles and a second wide, wide leather ring around the upper part of Will’s soft penis. A thin metal chain connects the two, its coldness makes the curly pup writhe for a second.

“Ah ah _ah_ , William!” you scold softly.

Will clenches his eyes shut and mewls, the pressure on his genitals wholly unfamiliar. Hannibal answers him with a whine and starts gently kneading his paws into the younger pup’s shoulders.

“This is going to feel strange, sweetheart, but I really need you to stay very, very still now,” you say as you lift Will’s cock and carefully start to insert the generously lubed up half-hard silicone rod into his urethra. 

The reaction is immediate. Will obediently doesn’t move, but his panting breath stutters and he yowls _pitifully_. 

It breaks your heart, but you know he would react differently if it would _hurt_. Your extensive research says it’s going to be uncomfortable, but combined with getting him to wear a longer solid plug, the steady pressure on his prostate from both sides will feel very arousing and should pressure his body into producing enough hormones to send him into the frenzy in just a few days. 

The other end of the rod is curved down towards the leather ring and snugly fastened there, so that it can’t slip out. From the outside it almost looks like a Prince Albert piercing. It’s slim enough that Will can still relieve himself, silicone flexible enough so he can move around, but the leather parts restrict his ability to get hard, which also helps quicken his body’s pent-up urge to rut.

You caress Will’s flank with broad strokes in praise.“ _Well_ done, baby, that was _so_ good. Such a _sweet_ pup you are, stayed so still for me.” His blue eyes are glassy and wet, but he smiles.

Hannibal scents the air and crawls over to curiously sniff all over the new _thing_ on Will’s body. 

Your eyes again find the younger pup’s big blue ones to check in on him, when he suddenly yelps with a full body shudder and gasps, trying to sit up. 

Worried, you look down and find that _scenting_ was obviously not enough for Hannibal. Instead he sucks and nibbles at the sounding rod, unmistakably trying to pull the strange thing _out_ while Will tries to scoot away from his mouth.

“Hannibal- _leave_ it!” 

The older pup instantly shies away, looking disgruntled. It’s not often you even have to use a stern voice with him, so it has quite the effect. 

Your expression softens instantly as you reach out to cradle Hannibal’s face in your hands, “You _can’t_ touch that until I take it out, you understand? You would _hurt_ Will.”

When you command Will to turn onto his belly, gripping the root of his tail to hold it out of the way while carefully inserting the lubricated long silicone plug, Hannibal’s own tail swishes in excitement at Will’s immediate, loud reaction. You give the pup a few minutes to get used to the feeling. 

In the videos you watched it said the steady pressure on his prostate should be quite similar to how humans feel it. A constant teetering on the edge of an orgasm. 

With the way Will is panting and getting sweaty, it looks like an overall success.

\---

When you wake up that night, looking over to check their nest, Will for the first time -- as far as you’re aware -- is eagerly licking and sucking at Hannibal’s cock, tonguing the small metal rod of his piercing.

With quick, shaky breaths, the older pup’s helplessly trying to thrust his hips into the plush, dribbling mouth of his soon-to-be mate. Squinting your eyes in the dark, you can make out Will spending a lot of the time practically suctioned to the base of Hannibal’s cock, probably trying to coax his knot. 

Hannibal’s stud profile said his knot isn’t rut-exclusive, but due to his age it might take a while.

One thing is for sure, though: Will really won’t have to wear his plug and the sounding ‘cage’ for very long now.

\---

The impression is reinforced even further when you notice that in the next few days Will begins wolfing down his food with lightning speed, then switching to Hannibal’s plate to inhale _his_ portion, too. 

Hannibal lets him, though he seems puzzled and a bit affronted at first. Even as you double Will’s portions in nutritious prep for his rut, he will still also snack on Hannibal’s, so you start feeding your Lithi in a separate room, after mealtimes. Will, without fail, shows his displeasure about that by sniffing and licking at Hannibal’s mouth afterwards, growling lowly. The Brighthound lets him, but when it gets too much, he scruffs the younger pup with a warning snarl and holds him until Will has stopped whining.

The British Curl seems to grow more restless, literally pawing at the front door asking to be let out thrice as often now. Once you let him, he _bolts_ outside, into the first tree-line shade of the forest where he’ll start to vigorously mark his territory, circling the property. 

Every time, without fail, Hannibal will look at you and wait for your permission. 

“Go, sweetheart,” you say “please keep an eye on him, though. Don’t let him eat a squirrel. Again.” 

Because yeah, that’s happened now, too. 

Every time you watch them playfully chasing after each other around the trees, leaping over the underbrush, you’re reminded of what you learned in pup history class during training and a few bits and pieces even in school.

About 300 years ago there was still a huge population of Wild Ones all over the world. Feral, undomesticated and largely untouched by humankind. They were left alone, roaming the forests and planes of the wild in packs, each breed native to their surrounding, naturally evolving with dynamics as raw and rare as today. 

Back then Hannibal would also have been a Superior; fiercely leading a loyal pack of at least twenty other pups, mostly carriers to enlarge his pack by breeding them regularly and to hunt for food, but also a few studs he’d mount purely for pleasure, who would’ve been there to care for the puppies and help fight off potential dangers. Even back then it was apparently common for a Superior to have one true packmate with whom they mated for life. Despite gender or anatomy. 

Just like now. 

Hannibal doesn’t seem to care that he will never be able to properly _breed_ Will. That no matter how many times his knot will catch and tie them together, no seed will pass a cervix to plant itself in his mate’s body. No matter how sure the British Curl is to not let Hannibal come anywhere else but _inside_ him during his rut, his belly will never swell with a tiny litter of their own. 

Like hundreds of years ago, you can still see a smidge of wildness in the dogs when they chase each other around the property. Just like back then, when a pup is caught, they will fight and whoever submits gets scruffed and mounted right away. Something Will is _definitely_ trying to get Hannibal to do to him now. 

He nips and shoves at Hannibal the whole time, but each time the older pup gets down on all fours in defeat, Will slinks down as well, shoves himself under the Brighthound’s chest and bodily pushes _up_ with an alluring whine; rubbing his back along Hannibal’s front, then bears down on his elbows and _presents_ \-- soft tail lifted to the side. 

Each time he only holds that position for a few seconds, though, until Hannibal tries to cage Will with a growl and slides his half-hard cock in the small space between Will’s thick thighs. 

Without fail, Will then crouches, rolling to the side, then runs off for a new chase. Hannibal’s face almost looks surprised, every time he gets left hanging. 

Considering neither of them have done this before, you’re not sure both are completely aware of _what_ they’re doing or _why_ , but that doesn’t matter as long as they’re safe and enjoying their play. 

Unlike all of his stud life, here Hannibal doesn’t need to fulfil a quota or follow an agenda. And Will isn’t required to endure pain to show himself as someone he is not.

They can finally just _be_.

\---

At the start of his full-on _rut_ , Will slowly seems to go more and more feral. He tries to not allow anyone -- not even the animals -- to leave the house, eager to keep his pack in the one place that he can guard. 

He’s turned the whole bedroom into a large nest, dragging not only Hannibal’s blankets and your clothes into it and lounging all over them, but also stole a few of the fluffy dog beds and squishy toys. 

For breakfast he now eats for three and when you start walking to take Hannibal away from him so he can eat his portion in the other room, Will growls and gets _bitey_. 

The testament to it is now throbbing painfully on your forearm. He didn’t get to draw blood, but only because Hannibal leapt to pin him when he heard your pained yelp. 

You’re glad they’re not in rut simultaneously, because instead of Hannibal defending you, you’d possibly have had _both_ arms bitten and it would have been quite a feat to get any command through their pure arousal-addled brains. 

Hiding how shaken up you are, you ask Hannibal to keep Will pinned while you put him in the muzzle he came with. The black leather fully covers everything underneath his nose, noises of muffled panting filling the living room. 

“I know you both hate this,” you say, gently scritching both of their heads, “but we can’t risk any of us getting hurt, can we?” 

It’s apparent Hannibal is hugely affected by the distressed noises the curly pup is making, but he’s obedient enough to ignore it for the sake of being a good pup for his Owner.

“Hannibal, _heel_.” and he does, kneeling beside you right away. Will, now freed, does a full body shake and looks like he’s yawning. He’s in distress. 

“Okay. Lie down, Will.” 

The curly pup eyes you warily and snorts, unmoving but for his heaving chest.

“I want to remove your little ‘cage’ and plug, sweetheart. Come on, lie down for me.” 

Again, no movement.

“ _William_. You lie down _now_ or Hannibal will _make_ you lie down. Do we want that?”

With a frustrated whine, he obeys.

As soon as he’s freed, he runs right back up the stairs to his bedroom nest while you follow him, to start rubbing himself all over it, steadily accompanied by little needy huffs and whines. He’s sweaty, completely naked except for the muzzle, not even in a harness now. Deep in his first ever rut, he would try to destroy any restraints on his body. 

Hannibal has of course also followed you and now kneels next to you, in front of the large nest. His gaze keeps switching between the younger pup and you, visibly almost _vibrating_ out of his skin. Waiting for your permission.

Will must smell absolutely _intoxicating_ to him right now. The pup’s hard cock is leaving traces of pre-come all over the nest, scent marking everything thoroughly, making sure he’s being discovered by the most suitable mate. Said mate is already there and seems hyper-fixated on Will’s rear.

“Hannibal.” 

Round maroon eyes snap up to you, hopeful. 

“You’re gonna be a gentle pup, yeah? You know you’re Will’s first, sweetheart, and you’ve never done this before.” 

Hannibal whines, softly pushing his forehead into the palm of your hand and when he looks back up at you, Will lets out another needy whine which Hannibal -- his eyes not leaving yours -- answers with a hybrid noise of an excited purr and growl. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Will rolling onto his stomach to _present_. For the first time, he keeps completely still, except for his heaving chest. Just like that. 

Waiting to be mounted now, tail lifted, head pressed into the nest, face turned to the side, eyes closed. He might look calm, but at second glance his body is taut like a bowstring.

Your thumb brushes over your Lithi’s cheekbone as you smile down at him. 

“Go, Hannibal. _Mate_.” 

Instead of rushing towards Will, Hannibal shakes his powerful body, flexes his muscular shoulders and starts _prowling_. 

He slowly circles Will in the nest while his soon-to-be mate stays obediently still. 

Hannibal wants to take his time, despite the visible amount of effort it takes. Wants to relish in finally getting to do what he was never allowed before. 

There’s no clinical, efficient gloved hands on him now. No bodiless collection sleeve. There’s _taste_ and _scents_ and warm _skin_. 

For a few moments, Hannibal closes his eyes, looking positively overwhelmed. When he opens them again, they’re glassy, bright like stars, pupils blown.

With a deep growl he drapes himself over Will’s trembling body, just covering him like a blanket, nuzzling into the curls at the nape of the younger pup’s neck. Will lets it happen, but then makes a small move forward and like that pulled his trigger, Hannibal’s face is pure determination and arousal. 

Nostrils flaring, he licks a broad stripe up Will’s spine and scruffs him like wiggling prey. 

As soon as he feels Will going still again, he slides down his body with a grunt and pushes the soft dark brown tail to the side, pinning it with his forearm. So wholly exposed, Will trembles. 

You have half a mind to leave the room when Hannibal dives into Will tongue first and the curly pup starts making his almost-human moaning-noises again, but it’s the first time for both and you _need_ to make sure they’re not seriously injuring each other.

With pride you watch Hannibal prepare the smaller pup. He learned well what you taught him about helping his mate. Getting him as wet as possible first, because neither of them can produce any slick naturally. 

Some Owners would lube up their pups themselves, but you read everywhere that it’s best to let _them_ do it completely undisturbed and organically for the very first rut. Hannibal has passed his Maturities, but very surely not with another pup, only clinical hands and a breeding bench with a mounted, mechanical stimulation device for penis and prostate. 

Your eyes are focussed on what’s visible of Will’s sweaty face as Hannibal finally lines himself up to try and pop the head in. With the way Will is writhing in anticipation, though, Hannibal’s cock keeps slipping along Will’s perineum and testicles with soft, wet noises.

Nostrils flaring, Hannibal allows Will a few moments of nerves until he has enough. 

Growling lowly, he bares his sharp canines and, at last, sinks them into the smaller pup’s nape, stilling him enough for his massive, flushed cock to catch on Will’s hole. Blood wells up into his mouth as he sucks eagerly, sealing their bond, grinding his fangs deep into tender skin. 

Hannibal’s hips keep impatiently twitching in tiny forward motions, testing the slickness and give of the small ring of muscle he wants to fuck into. 

Then, with a resounding growl, Hannibal finally manages to push his thick, pierced cockhead into Will’s hole. 

The younger pup eyes’ roll back into his head as he yowls instantly and tries to scramble away. It’s natural, but there’s nowhere to go. 

He’s trapped between the jaws and around the huge girth of his mate. A relentless double penetration. Will’s struggle only spears him _farther_ onto Hannibal’s cock. 

Huffing, deep grunts mix with the loud, continuous mewls of the younger pup. Already sweaty from exertion.

You can see both of the pups’ hair sticking to the sides of their faces. Will’s ears are completely flattened to his head. He’s visibly in distress, even though you can’t even see the lower part of his face, and it breaks your heart a bit. Maybe next time you _should_ help them with lubrication, but he _needs_ the resulting hormones. It’s _so_ overdue.

When Will opens his eyes and turns his head to you, his lashes are wet and a stream of tears runs down over his muzzled cheeks. He’s shaking and loudly panting.

A wild juxtaposition to Hannibal’s determined and blissed out face as he dislodges his teeth from the curly pup’s neck to lavishly lick and suck over the deep bite mark. Sluggish blood pools in the indentations of his sharp canines in the tender flesh. The distributed saliva will help heal it, but it’ll also throb and itch a lot. An incentive for Will to touch it often afterwards; to not forget he is wholly claimed, maybe open the wound so his mate can lick it again.

Hannibal grunts, maroon eyes closed, as he slowly keeps fucking deeper. It’s not hurried, he’s possibly even trying to be careful. He seems to enjoy it, savouring the feeling of Will’s hot vice-like clench around his cock. 

You can also see his knot has now formed. It looks _dangerously_ huge. 

Something in your belly drops as you imagine Hannibal wanting to shove _that_ into the younger, already struggling pup. But even if you wanted to, chances are slim you could stop them now. _Will_ wouldn’t let you. 

And in Owner education you learned sudden danger can make a stud panic-knot, as to not be parted from their mate. A claimed pup’s safest place is always _in_ or _on_ their mate.

The Brighthound is trying to allow Will a few almost-knot thrusts as a heads up, but Will seems to still need to adjust to the enormous length and girth of the cock in his ass. When Hannibal stills a little and slowly adds pressure to ease in the bulbous knot, Will’s eyes shoot open with a loud and pained scream-like yowl. 

He leans forward, clenching his asscheeks, trying to get away from the aching intrusion. Fresh tears form in his eyes and he audibly sobs, face completely wet from sweat and crying. The haze of his rut seems forgotten for a second, the pain in his rear very likely like a sobering slap to the face. 

Hannibal looks overwhelmed, but is still as hard as ever. Just like Will probably, he’s never done this before either; was never used for live-cover, has never been allowed to test how it feels to fuck into a living creature; allowed to test with how much ease or strength his huge knot could be received. Instinctually he knows it _is_ supposed to go _inside_ and that he can only breed his mate like that.

And oh, _does_ he want to breed Will. You knew that the day they met.

To your surprise, Hannibal huffs, pulls out and nudges his head under Will’s flank, so that the younger pup shakily gets up on all fours and Hannibal can shove _himself_ underneath his sweaty mate. 

He then yips and lowers himself onto his front, _presenting_ ; squirming his own rear against Will’s erection.

For a second Will’s eyes blink in confusion, but then, with a feral snarl, he pounces against Hannibal from behind, shoving his muzzled face into the bared, sweaty neck. Frustrated to not get his bite, Hannibal growls and shoves his ass further back into Will’s cock. 

In his rut-addled brain, the younger pup doesn’t grant Hannibal the courtesy of licking at his hole before he gives a few practice-thrusts to the space between the older pup’s thighs. Will releases a mix of a desperate whine and grunt when he finally gets his cockhead to catch and -- accompanied by the most guttural sound Hannibal’s throat ever produced -- _shoves_ in. 

It’s pain and becoming. Lust and despair. Weeping and yearning. Like Will’s put a knife through him, a stab of pure pleasure. 

The younger pup’s cock is only slicked by his own pre-come and luckily for Hannibal, there’s _just barely_ enough of that. 

You’ve reached the point where it becomes a little uncomfortable to stare at their mating for so long, so you step outside of the bedroom to get an iced drink from the fridge. Ears finely attuned to the combined moans and punched out breaths.

Not long after you’ve got your drink and watched the dogs outside play through the kitchen window, there’s a long, louder wail from upstairs.

Worried, you go back up the staircase to find the two pups still in one piece - more literal than anything else, as the British Curl has managed to slip his knot in. 

Another rare sense of pride washes over you. Will’s first rut; his first penetrative mount and he’s already tucked safely in his mate. 

It must be so overwhelming for him. They both certainly _look_ like it. Sweaty, exhausted and sated.

Will’s got his eyes closed, hips only giving minuscule thrusts. According to what you’ve learned in training, he is most likely still ejaculating into his mate right now. 

Hannibal is panting, his face pressed into his forearms, bitemarks of his own teeth are all over them. He keeps rotating his hips in tiny circles, probably to either ease the burn of the stretch or multiply the pressure on his prostate. Judging from the spot under him, he’s climaxed a few times just from the penetration and stretch alone.

Ideally, if Hannibal was a carrier with at least one fertile egg at the ready, Will’s sperm would be locked in by the knot for 10-30 minutes to ensure it finds its way to his soft and slightly opened cervix. After he’s slipped out, Will will instinctively eagerly lap at what’s seeping out of his mate and push it back in with his tongue.

Will would also repeatedly breed him a couple more times to maximise a successful impregnation with a litter of at least two to three puppies. Four, if they take after their smaller sire. And they would definitely be curly haired. ‘They would be so very beautiful’, you think with a sigh. 

As they seem to be in their own little rut-induced bubble, you don’t dare disturb them by cooing at them and leave them in their nest. 

It’s again not even 2 hours later -- you were just in the middle of a good fic -- when you’re prompted to rush back up the stairs, as one of the pups has loudly yelped again. Rhythmic little growls fill the room as you turn the corner into the room. 

Your eyes take in the scene. Hannibal is on top again, Will on his back under him. You can’t see it at first, because Hannibal’s own thigh is in the way, but finally your eyes fall on where they are joined snugly. The Lithi has finally managed to slip his huge knot into the younger pup, but -- with a silent gasp you realise -- there’s blood seeping around it and smeared all over their nest. 

Hannibal has ripped the poor pup, but they look completely gone; too high on mating and rut endorphins to notice much of the pain. Will definitely wouldn’t firmly press back against Hannibal’s little thrusts with that blissed out look on his face, all purr, if he’d be feeling the level of pain that rip is undoubtedly procuring. 

As soon as he’s out of his rut, a vet will definitely have to come by to stitch him up. 

A few hours later they trot down the stairs to paw at your thigh, probably positively famished from all the mating. 

You take off Will’s muzzle and feed Hannibal first, while you make the British Curl kneel next to him -- no matter if Will has his own bowl, he will steal at least half of Hannibal’s food anyway -- so you can check his swollen, glistening and blood-caked hole. 

Will only huffs when you clean the blood, spit and ejaculate. It’s Hannibal that doesn’t seem to like you touching his mate in that state, as his head snaps to your hands as soon as you touch the younger pup, maroon eyes zeroing in on you. 

“Easy, darling, I’m just cleaning him up for you.” 

Hannibal whines, his food instantly forgotten, and comes to sniff and lick at your hands, the bloodied wound-disinfection wet wipes and Will’s puffy entrance. 

You carefully nudge him aside with your shoulder, not letting your hands go into the direction of his sharp canines right now. He’s the sweetest pup, but he’s also got a mate now. A mate in rut who he has freshly claimed for himself.

Hannibal only relaxes once Will has finished eating and slurped some of the water and they dash upstairs once more, tails wagging in excitement. 

After half an hour of moaning, purring and whining, the house falls into silence. Careful with your steps, you tiptoe up the stairs to check on the pair. They look to be fast asleep, curled up and tangled into each other's limbs. Will’s eyes are moving wildly behind closed eyelids like they always do. He seems to always have very vivid dreams.

Satisfied with the peaceful display, you dare to go outside with the animals for a big round. The furry rascals excited to finally have a bit of a breather from the charged atmosphere of inside the house. 

When you return home, and after feeding the animals, you sneak upstairs again to find Will and Hannibal are once again locked together. Will’s knot is safely tucked in his mate, a serene tiny smile on their dozing faces. Definitely very high on hormones.

Hannibal’s belly looks curved out like he’s four months pregnant, swollen with an impressive amount of Will’s come. The younger pup slowly circles his paws over the distended tum, soothing, but possessive, also. They look happy. Sated. 

Complete. 

\---

 **epilogue**

Two more days go by until Will’s rut has finally ebbed off and the vet comes over.

Hannibal is exceptionally polite and well-behaved as always. He knows her and has been handled by medical personnel all his life. 

Will is more skittish, needs a few scruffing bites to calm down. To double the effect, you gently caress his hair while the vet puts him under short anaesthesia to stitch up his hole, inside and out. 

She also does an STD screening for the pups and then Will _finally_ gets his Ampallang piercing, which he seems exceedingly proud of as soon as he’s come out of his anaesthetic haze. 

Hannibal keeps happily sniffing and huffing at it, looking up to the beaming British Curl as if to say ‘ _you did it, love_!’. As days go by, he continues to want to sniff and lick at it, but you forbid the both of them to touch it at all for two weeks. Warning them that if they don’t behave, Will is to get a cock cage again. 

They behave, but Will distracts himself by sitting on Hannibal’s face.

Curiously, about five weeks after Will’s rut, his belly, breasts and nipples start to swell and he has trouble keeping down food. He also sleeps a _lot_ more and gets very territorial about his nest. 

You don’t notice it at first, cause you never really look at them when they copulate, mostly leaving them alone in the room, ‘cause they’re always so _loud,_ but he’s also not letting Hannibal knot him anymore. 

Hannibal in turn dotes on Will like never before and keeps sniffing at and rubbing his face along Will’s curved belly and six now A-cup breasts. 

Concerned, you ask the vet to check whether Will might have ovaries and a uterus after all -- it isn’t unheard of, of course -- but the diagnosis is unfortunately sadder than that: the pup is going through a phantom pregnancy.

Apparently by wearing the nipple piercings for so many years, the ‘wrong’ hormone production had been amplified and so to _his_ body he didn’t just go through a rut, but also a _heat_. And to _his_ body, Hannibal had bred him well and proper. 

It’s a sorrowful and difficult task to have them curl up in their nest next to you, Hannibal’s paws proudly cupping Will’s belly, and petting their soft heads, gently explain that the litter they’re expecting... isn’t real. 

The younger pup understands it first, possibly has already deep down felt that there were no heartbeats and or movement in his tummy, and he sniffles, pressing back into his mate with a sad, quiet whine. 

You wanted to stay strong for this, but soon your own eyes are wet with tears. Hannibal’s eyes seem to stare at something far away, but his body holds his mate tight and he presses his head into your hand. 

“I’m so sorry, my loves,” you manage to whisper, before there’s a long time where you just sit together and you feel -- like so many times -- the pups have such a greater range of emotional capability and empathy than humankind gives them credit for.

Over the next weeks Will and Hannibal heavily mourn their phantom puppies, not eating or moving much. You try to give them their space, but also include them in daily walks and Sniffing Activities to take their mind off things.

On a Wednesday evening you get a call from Fuller’s House Foster care, saying he’s got another breeding farm surrender, but this time it’s a very timid and shy carrier-reject who needs a new home with another stud pup immediately, as her parents have been tragically slaughtered in an accident.

“You’ve done so great with Hannibal and she’s the same breed as him, so... it would be really good for her, don’t you think? She really needs a forever family.”

You need only take one look at the sad pair of pups in their living room nest to decide.

“You know what, Bryan, come bring her over and let’s see how they get along.”

And as soon as little Abby gets out of the back of the Jeep, Will and Hannibal are already pulling on their leashes, tails wagging in excitement, scenting the air. Ready to love on this two year old Brighthound puppy. 

Your Lithi also recognizes Bryan immediately, proudly presenting Will to him. And the man seems honestly moved, eyes glistening with happiness. 

“Oh my gosh, Hannibal, look at you! Have you got yourself a gorgeous _mate, or what_?”

Will huffs and blushes at that, but they greet him with nuzzles and licks also. 

While you quietly talk to Bryan, catching him up on anything that’s happened in the years since you adopted Hannibal, your eyes seldom leave the pair of pups who are playing with Abby in front of the fireplace. Something tugs in your heart.

Abby is a piece fitting so perfectly and only upon seeing it, you realise she’s what was missing from the picture.

Bryan leaves with the words to tell him your decision ‘in a few weeks’, but you already know she is going to stay. 

Fate gave Hannibal and Will this puppy. And after all they’ve been through, they deserve to have this family.

**fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for diving into this world with me (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ kudos & comments are the cookies that power me 🥺💖
> 
> the sounding chastity was inspired by [this wonderful artwork of will](https://twitter.com/musky_x/status/1314125157028556800?s=20) (nsfw)
> 
> please note: this is a oneshot. chapter 2 is purely META tidbits, in case you’re interested (▰˘◡˘▰)


	2. meta tidbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a bit of me geeking out over / explaining stuff from the Pup Owner society / Pup community
> 
> i might add stuff ≧◡≦

**Ages**

1 pup year = 7 human years  
Which means a 1 year old pup will be 1 until up to 13 human years.

 _spans:_  
puppy = up to 6 h.y.  
1 year old = 7 - 13 h.y.  
2 years old = 14 - 20 h.y.  
3 years old = 21 - 27 h.y.  
etc.

People express this as 'My pup is almost 2.' when a pup is 12 human years or 'Our pup is in her 6s now.' when she's 45 human years and so on. 

Hannibal's age is listed as a 7 year old (55 h.y. = human years), since birth years are still on record and he will turn 8 when he’s reached 56 human years.  
So the next year in the fic would be his _birthday year_.

The age scale rather works like with our real life dogs. Big breeds only live to like 12, 13, 14 years while small breeds can live up to 17, 18 years.

A healthy pup of Hannibal's big breed has a life expectancy of 13-14, so about 91-98 h.y.  
  
Small breeds (like Will's) can live up to 119 - 126 h.y., which is also why adopting, gifting and inheriting pups is quite a big deal in that world.  
Will is 'a bit over 5 years old', his exact h.y. is open to interpretation. I chose Mads' real birthyear for Hannibal in this world.

Since I've written Will to be a _bit big_ for his breed though, he will probably only make it to age 15-16 (105-112 h.y.).

So (CW: SADNESS) he would outlive his current owner and would definitely outlive Hannibal.  
Granted, he might not fare so well at like 11 years old (82 h.y.) after Hannibal has died and he still has quite a lot of life to live 🥺

\---

‚walking on Twos‘ or ‚walking on Fours‘ is capitalized, cause they’re specified **Pup terms**

\---

For Hannibal not having experience with / not being recommended to ‘live-cover’ is a breeding farm term, meaning he never got to fuck into a live carrier pup. He only got his sperm collected by clinical gloved hands or artificial silicone ‘fleshlights’ at the breeding farm. In the ad he isn’t recommended for ‘live-cover’ due to his naturally aggressive & domineering breed. 

—-

**Hannibal’s adoption ad explained:**

**age  
** **full name on pedigree papers  
** **breed  
** **purebreed or mixed  
** **year of birth  
** **height   
****weight  
** **coloring** (pubic, eyes, head + chest coat) **  
****genitals** (notes on that usually are interesting for breeding duties and harness fit) **  
****neutered, spayed, infertile or intact  
** **cut or uncut** (only for pups with penisses)  
 **cock size** (ranging XS, S, M, L, XL, 2XL, 3XL, etc.)  
 **knot** (does the pup pop a knot during a rut only or also outside of it)

 **  
maturities grade + fastest time to climax** (ranging from A+ to F-, but for every grade below a B- there’s follow-up instructions or training and/or socialisation)   
**piercings + month of piercing   
****international travel good-to-know** (hannibal has a lifelong travel-ban because of his special breed)  
 **microchips, tattoos, vaccines, etc?**   
**medical check-ups + month of when last  
** **instructions**

**heritage / pup history  
** **all other important info**

**owner certification recommended or needed?**

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ kudos & comments are what fuel this horny gremlin 🖤


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